Black Eyes and Silver Tongues
by sour gummies
Summary: Slytherin House can be a tricky place to form alliances, as a rather naive Severus comes to find. Maurader-era oneshot, featuring: Severus Snape, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Evan Rosier, Wilkes, Avery, and others.


a/n: my first real attempt at _Harry Potter_ fanfiction. I've taken some liberties with the ages of the characters involved, because seriously, screw that stupid tapestry; it makes no sense whatsoever.

the relativity of characters' ages should be the same as in the books, however, and I don't think I wrote anything that _directly_ violates canon.

as always, any concrit would be appreciated—Rowling's characters can be tricky to get right, let alone her timelines.

* * *

><p>It was nearing the end of October, and the Hogwarts grounds had lately experienced the beginnings of a seasonal drop in temperature. Students wandering outdoors between classes had taken to bundling up in extra layers beneath their robes, and a handful had already begun wearing their winter cloaks.<p>

At least one student, however, didn't seem to mind the cold, or at least had not taken pains to dress for the chillier weather. Severus Snape, a Slytherin first-year of somewhat dubious reputation, still sported the same threadbare robes he'd worn during the summer months, rather ruining the effect of grandeur he'd been aiming for when it came to impressing his older friends. The boy's greasy hair hung unkempt about his face as he spoke, addressing the group of students standing over him in a loose semicircle.

"…And as a matter of fact—yes, I've got a new one for you," Severus told them conspiratorially, unable to fully contain a smirk as he rolled his wand between his fingers. "The incantation is '_Langlock._'"

Most of the half-dozen Slytherins huddled around him nodded in response, though some looked more impressed than others. Wilkes and Lestrange were staring down at him with identical expressions of greed and delight, hands twitching as though they longed to try out the jinx immediately. Rosier's eyes glittered with a distant look as he licked his lips, probably imagining the possible effects of the spell. Black, on the other hand, was looking down at Severus with a haughty expression that bordered on disbelief, her curly black hair framing her face.

"_Langlock,_ is it?" she asked, a scowl covering her pretty features. Bellatrix Black, a seventh-year and the eldest of the three Black sisters, was often the most difficult to impress among her circle of friends. She enjoyed Severus's spells well enough and occasionally found his vicious attitude amusing, but she had never made a secret of scorning his poverty and grubby appearance.

Severus nodded up at her quickly, forgetting to feign nonchalance in his desperation to prove himself. Bellatrix was the unspoken leader and the oldest of the group besides Lestrange, who was her fellow seventh-year as well as her boyfriend. If Bellatrix thought Severus's spell was worthwhile, the others would follow suit.

"That's right," Severus said, pulling back the sleeves of his overlarge robe to free his hands. "The wand movement goes like this, look—"

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently, rolling her eyes as Severus flourished his wand arm. "But tell us, Snape, what's it do? It had better not be as _boring_ as that Toenail hex you showed us in September."

"Hey, that hex was brilliant!" piped up Avery indignantly from about her waist. A second-year Slytherin, Avery was the youngest of their gang besides Severus, and insisted on tagging along with them during his free periods and in the evenings. He grated on Bellatrix's nerves to no end. "I got that lummox Eddie Toulson with it the other day behind the greenhouses, you were there, Severus, you saw—"

"This one's _definitely_ more useful," Severus said loudly, cutting Avery off before he could embarrass either of them further. "In fact, Bella, next time _someone's_ being a pain, you could probably use it to shut him up…"

He'd spoken the nickname without thinking, and regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth: Bellatrix's disdainful look immediately morphed into an ugly scowl, staring at Severus as though he were a particularly loathsome insect.

"I've told you not to call me that," she snarled, going for her wand. Wary of her temper, Severus quickly opened his mouth to cast a defensive spell, but before he could even form the words, Bellatrix's eyes were boring into his with a piercing glare, and she cried out, "_Langlock_!"

Severus's hands flew to his mouth, horrified—his tongue had immediately stuck on to the roof of his mouth as if glued, leaving him helpless to cast a counter-curse. Bellatrix laughed cruelly as he spluttered, struggling in vain against the jinx.

"Why, Snape, I do believe you're right!" she said gleefully, as the others began to laugh, causing Severus's face to burn with humiliation. "Next time I want to get rid of any annoying little hangers-on, I'll know just the spell. You've really been _such_ a help."

_Next time!_ Severus vowed to himself furiously, unable to speak around the jinx. _Next time, I'll have a nonverbal spell...!_

Darkly thanking his luck that at least that toerag Potter and Sirius Black weren't there to see his humiliation—let alone Lily—Severus lunged, in an attempt to seize Bellatrix's wand away from her so he could free himself from the jinx. Bellatrix swore and managed to duck away at the last moment, sending Snape barreling into Wilkes. The sixth-year grunted in annoyance and shoved him off, toward Rosier. Jeering, the older boy decided to join in the game as well, backhanding Severus across the face so hard it sent the first-year sprawling to the ground.

Panting in rage around his stuck tongue, Severus ignored the smarting red mark on his face and struggled to regain his feet, only to find himself at the casting end of two pointed wands. Bellatrix and Lestrange stood over him, smirking cruelly.

"Bet you think you're awfully clever, don't you, Snape?" Bellatrix asked, her heavily lidded eyes bright with anticipation. "Don't think I won't hex you, just because you hover around the rest of us. _Nobody_ attacks a Black! Let alone filthy little first-years who ought to know their place…"

Before she could curse him, however, a high voice called out from across the grounds: "_Bellatrix!_ Bella, stop it, stop this instant!"

Everyone turned to look. Marching toward them, as fast as was decorous for a pureblooded witch of her status, was Narcissa Black, a fourth-year Slytherin and Bellatrix's younger sister. While Bellatrix had dark, heavier features, Narcissa had a delicate frame and light-colored hair that fluttered in the wind about her pale, pretty face. Behind her, a sour-looking Lucius Malfoy trailed after at a distance, seemingly annoyed at having his afternoon of shameless flirting interrupted by his housemates' antics.

Bellatrix sighed in exasperation, turning away from Snape and placing her hands on her hips as she regarded her sister. "Not now, Cissy. Can't you see I'm busy teaching this wretched urchin some manners?"

Narcissa glowered up at her, unafraid, her slender hands going to rest on her own hips as well. "Bella, I said stop it! You've had plenty enough detentions this term, more than in your last six years combined! Father's going to be furious if you get into any more trouble with Dumbledore!"

Bewildered, Severus looked from one girl to the other, scarcely knowing whose side he ought to be on. In his two months at Hogwarts, he'd never once witnessed Bellatrix and Narcissa Black fighting; it was almost unthinkable. Despite being separated by three years, the two sisters were close; closer than either of them were to Andromeda, their standoffish remaining sibling (and a Slytherin sixth-year).

Narcissa had her own group of friends and had never spoken to Severus, although he'd caught her wrinkling her nose at his tattered clothing on occasion. He was surprised that she'd stand up to his sister over him, even if it were only for the sake of keeping Bellatrix out of trouble.

"Dumbledore! What do you care about that old fool?" Bellatrix said with a harsh laugh. "I'll hex whomever I like! I don't care about detentions."

Anyone else would have been sprinting away by now at the look on Bellatrix's face; the infamy of her temper was matched only by her knowledge of dangerous magic. Narcissa wavered, glancing to the other Slytherins nervously, but then spoke up again, her voice clear.

"You know I don't care anything for Dumbledore," she told Bellatrix, sniffing as if insulted. "But he's still the Headmaster, and I don't want you making him angry over nonsense like this! Just let the boy alone."

Bellatrix scowled, but then wordlessly jerked her wand arm to break the spell, never taking her eyes off her sister. Severus found he could suddenly speak again, and tightened his grip on his wand—but before he could hex Bellatrix in retaliation, Lucius Malfoy had suddenly appeared among them, his prefect's badge gleaming in the cold afternoon light.

"What's all this?" he drawled, placing one hand lightly on Narcissa's shoulder. Her expression softened as she turned to look at him, missing Bellatrix's incredulous stare.

"Oh, Lucius—it's nothing. Bellatrix was only acting out of line," Narcissa said, practically simpering.

Bellatrix scowled.

"I was well within my rights!" she said hotly, pointing to Severus, who glared back, baring his teeth. "This little brat thought he could just do whatever he liked. All I did was shut him up with a jinx—"

"She used my own spell against me!" Severus countered, furious.

At this outburst, Malfoy turned to look at him for the first time, expression suddenly interested. A sixth-year Slytherin prefect with impeccable taste and good grades, Lucius Malfoy was everything that Severus Snape was not: refined, elegant, handsome, and exceedingly wealthy. He rarely spoke to Severus, aside from the occasional reprimand for being out past curfew or getting into fights with Sirius Black and his Gryffindor cronies. Snape remembered vaguely that Malfoy had been the first Slytherin he ever met at Hogwarts, having sat next to him at the year's opening feast.

"_Your_ spell?" Malfoy asked, one pale eyebrow raised. Though clearly curious, he spoke in a detached manner, without a single blond hair on his head out of place.

"Yes, mine," Severus spat. "I made it. Locks your tongue so you can't talk."

Malfoy nodded at him, eyes sharp. Whatever he'd been looking for in Severus's response, the older boy seemed to have found it. He turned to the other Slytherins, waving his free hand dismissively.

"All of you head back to the castle," he said with authority. "It's getting close to class time, anyway. I won't take any points for this, but it _is_ my duty as a prefect to break up any such…incidents as these."

Bellatrix glowered at him. "And just why should I listen to you, Malfoy?" she asked angrily, forgetting Severus entirely as she gripped her wand tighter.

Lucius smiled condescendingly, hand still resting on Narcissa's shoulder. "Now, now, Bella," he said loftily, ignoring the older girl's face reddening in fury at the nickname. "What was that you were saying about Severus here, just before I arrived? That he ought to 'know his place?' Surely you can empathize with my _own_ position as a prefect."

He sneered. Bellatrix looked livid, fingers gripping at her wand so tightly that her knuckles were white—but neither Narcissa nor Malfoy backed down, evenly staring at her in turn, hands on their wands. The other Slytherins gathered around them were silent, watching the exchange with bated breath. Even Rodolphus, prepared as he'd been to hex Severus into next year on Bellatrix's behalf, couldn't seem to think of anything to say in defense of his girlfriend.

Another gust of wind blew over the lot of them, blowing at their clothes and hair; Severus could feel the chill in his very bones.

Finally, Lestrange slowly leaned down over Bellatrix's shoulder, breaking the stalemate. "Class in fifteen, Bella," he muttered apologetically, wringing his hands nervously.

She scowled at him, but held back her retort, turning to glare again at her sister and Malfoy. "Remember to choose your friends carefully, _Cissy_," she hissed darkly, spinning on her heel and storming back toward the castle. The others watched her dumbly for a moment before hurrying after, Avery casting an apologetic glance at Severus as he went.

Severus might have gone after them, but Malfoy placed a stilling hand on his arm. "Wait," the older Slytherin said, voice silky, and Severus looked up at him warily. What could Malfoy possibly want with him? He was a prefect, and a pureblood at that. For that matter, why had he fought with Bellatrix at all? Weren't all purebloods supposed to get along?

Narcissa looked at Lucius as well, passively, ignoring Severus completely except for the occasional glance. Even then, she wasn't staring at him as nastily as she had in the past.

Severus waited a moment, but then grew impatient waiting for either of them to speak. "Well? What do you want, Malfoy?" he snapped, sallow face tinged red. He _hated_ that he'd needed to be saved like that, and from his own friends, no less. Severus ought to be able to look out for himself—that was what his mother had always said, after all. If Malfoy thought the unexpected rescue was going to put him in Severus's good books, then he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Malfoy, however, didn't seem at all upset with Severus's outburst. "I'll only take a moment of your time," the older boy said, grey eyes glinting in the cold light. "I'd like to speak to you about that enchantment of yours, Mr. Snape."

Severus stared at him, surprised. He wanted to know about Severus's spells? Malfoy was one of the best wizards in his year; surely he had more than enough hexes at his disposal that he wouldn't need to pick the brains of a first-year. Maybe he was planning on giving Severus a detention.

Instead, Malfoy gave him a winning smile. "You're quite the bright one, young Snape," he said smoothly. "Most first-years could never hope to create their own spells as you have. In fact, many adult wizards never manage it either."

Despite himself, Severus felt a swell of gratification at the praise. Lestrange and Rosier and the other Slytherins might take his invented spells and devour them like sweets, but they'd never lauded Severus for having made them. Malfoy acted as though he was genuinely impressed.

"Now tell me," Malfoy continued briskly, "This spell of yours, it sounds quite _useful_, if you don't mind my saying so. Do you have any others?"

Severus nodded hungrily, eager for the unspoken promise for attention. Narcissa glanced down at him again, silently, before looking back to Malfoy. The prefect caught her glance and smiled, but Severus didn't notice.

"How fascinating," Malfoy said, and it sounded like he really meant it. Like he wanted to know more. "I'd like for you to tell me all about these spells of yours, Severus, if that's all right with you." From his tone, he clearly had no doubt that it would be. "Oh, and before I forget—please, call me Lucius."

Severus did.


End file.
